That's What I'm Counting On
by JesusisBoss
Summary: Clara Oswald is slowly being eaten at from the inside. But she won't let anyone see. Can the Doctor figure out what's really going on before it's too late? And can he really save her from herself? Whouffle. WARNING: Self-harm.


**Major trigger warnings for this fic: Some what graphic self-harm, depressing thoughts, and anxiety. It's going to become Whouffle, (oh, how I love you, you beautiful ship you), and all I can promise is no smut and a happy ending. What more could you want? Disclaimer: I own none of the characters. I probably should though. I'm a lot nicer than Moffat. Maybe... :)**

Clara Oswald was in agony. She sat on the floor of the bathroom, surrounded by the destruction she had brought upon herself. Cold. So cold. She couldn't feel anything. She was numb, at least on the outside. On the inside, she was a tortured tornado of emotion. Her head buzzed with the thoughts racing through her mind, her heart being torn into a million different directions.

So many feelings. Hurt- _Why me? How come this happened to me? What did I do wrong? Did I deserve this? _Hate- _I'm disgusting. I'm a disgusting human being. What's wrong with me? I'm so fat, so annoying, so useless. So alone. No wonder everyone hates me. I can't keep my mouth shut, can't do anything with my life, and I'm so ugly. _Hunger _I need relief. I need something. Something to stop the pain. Something to... distract me. _Fear _I promised myself I'd stop. I said I wouldn't. I shouldn't. I can't. I will. Just once more. _Tears streamed down her face as one final emotion consumed her mind: Relief. The blade dragged across her skin.

Again, and again, and again. Blood welled up to the surface. She had told herself that last time WOULD BE the last time. She had lied. That's all she really did though, wasn't it? Lie. Lie to the Maitland's. Lie to herself. Lie to The Doctor. Lie lie lie lie lie lie lie. No, I'm not hungry._ cut._ (I can't allow myself to eat, I'm too fat.) No, I'll keep the sweatshirt on thanks, I'm cold. _cut_ (The cuts on my arms are really noticable today.) My eyes are red? Must be allergies. _cut_ (I cried myself to sleep last night.) And no one would be the wiser. Not even the Doctor. Especially not the Doctor. _cut._

To him, she was the impossible girl. Not even. He only kept her with him out of guilt because she saved his life a million times over. _cut. _To him she was just the damsel in distress. Couldn't handle seeing dead bodies. Got lost one too many times. Was over taken by bloody wi-fi for God's sake! _cut. _And the one thing, _the one thing_, that got her over and over again, playing in her mind like a record. "_Do you think I'm pretty? No, you're too short, and your nose is all funny."_

That. Just that. She had always known she was too short. Had always hated it. Now someone had pointed it out. Now she knew just how noticable it was. And her nose. She had always had a strange feeling that there was something wrong with her face that made it so unattractive. Well, now she knew. She should be thanking him really. _cut. _He only helped her see herself more clearly. She was horrible. She'd never measure up. The man she loved didn't love her back. And yes, she was sure of it now. Both that she loved him, and that it wasn't returned. He was in love with River Song. His dead wife. He was thinking about her, not Clara. Why would he think about Clara? Why at all? _cut. _Maybe she'd ask him his real relations to River Song when he picked her up later today. So then she could no exactly why she didn't stand a chance. She didn't deserve someone as great as the Doctor. _cut. _Because she was fat. _cut. _Because she was stupid. _cut. _Because she couldn't take care of herself. _cut._ Because behind the scenes, she was a wreck. _cut. _Because she was ugly. _cut. _Because everyone hated her. _cut._ Because SHE-_cut_- WAS-_cut_- NOTHING. She gasped in agony as the pain finally reached her jumbled brain. Finally snapping out of her anguished trance, she looked down at her gory arms in quiet observation, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Both arms were covered in scars, both from cuttings she had done in the past, as a confused teen who had just lost her mother, and from more recently, as the equally confused adult who couldn't figure out her purpose. She didn't even know who she was. The blood covering each arm, and slowly dripping onto the tiled floor, resembled all the relief she had found from cutting. There was quite a lot. And nobody knew. Nobody cared. And nobody-NOBODY- understood.

**Three Hours Later**

The Doctor (Doctor Who?) had never been one for answering questions. The question that was just read previously regarding his name is proof of that. It wasn't that he didn't like_ discovering_ the answers to questions, quite the opposite, his life revolved around it. He just didn't like answering_ other_ people's questions regarding him, or his life, or people involved with him or his life. For, well, reasons. So, when Clara Oswald, who he most very certainly was NOT in love with, thank-you very much, asked him that one question, he panicked.

"Who was Professor River Song?" The question stopped him dead in his tracks as he was walking out of the console room. River? Why was she suddenly bringing up River? He slowly turned to face his companion, who was leaning against the TARDIS console. Her arms were crossed, and her eyebrows were raised, as if she were daring him to try to avoid the question. He secretly admired the way her lips turned up a bit at the corners to create the cutest little dimples- What? No. River. Right. River. What about River? Oh yes, who was she. Um, well. Yes. Yes, really, WHO was she? How to explain without it getting awkward...

"She was, uh," he said slowly, grasping for words. He looked at Clara's expectant face. "Well, she was sort of...my...wife." WHAT? NO! Those weren't the right words to use, it gave the wrong impression of River's and his relationship. "You already told me that," Clara said in exasperation. "But WHO was she. How'd you meet her? Were you in love? I mean you must have been, if you married her-"

"No," the Doctor said, cutting her off quickly. Her eyebrows squinted in confusion.

"Sorry?"

He shook his head, and suddenly he found that the words came out a lot smoother. "I didn't marry her because I loved her. I married her... in order to save the universe. It's a long story, but, in the end the universe ended up okay and I ended up with a wife." He shrugged indifferently. Her face became even more confused if possible.

"So you...didn't...love her?" she asked slowly.

His eyes widened and he gave a small jump off denial. "What? No! Of course I loved her. I was even IN love with her a bit, but that's not the point! I'm just saying, I didn't marry her for the reason's your thinking. It's complicated."

"What are you saying?"

He sighed in annoyance at himself. "I'm saying...I'm saying..." he paced in frustration. What was he saying? How could he say it? Finally he turned and looked her in the eye. "I'm saying that you shouldn't think just because I was married to her, that it means that I'll never love anyone else ever again. I don't regret River, I just wished things could've been...different. I won't forget her, but I WILL move on. I have to," he said softly, looking down.

He suddenly felt small arms wrap around him in surprise, and he just stood there for a second, not sure what to do. He finally hugged her back. He hadn't even realise he needed a hug until she gave him one.

"It's okay Doctor," she said from against his chest. "I understand."

The Doctor gave a sad smile. Sometimes that was all anyone needed to say.

**Hope it wasn't too terrible. REVIEW! I'll give you a cookie if you do. Chocolate chip. Mmmmm.**


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